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Fuck today. No. Yeah. I mean, definitely fuck today but motherfucking fuck this week. This shit was a bad scene from the beginning and only got worse as the hours unfurled what with the discharge and contempt; the nonsensical doublespeak, the maladies and doe-eyed incompetence that just makes me want...

I shouldn’t have gone to this show. Five days into a cold or flu or whatever phlegmatic shitshow I’m still enjoying this evening and deep into the dizzying twilight of the third migraine of the week, I was dizzy and hacking and weak and would’ve done a better service to...

This town gets smaller every day. Sun Rot Sludge as fuck, wet crust with black hearts and glue eyes or something similarly unpleasant and appealing like the smell of a freshly picked scab. A glum trudge punctuated by electronic squealing. The name’s appropriate. Mercy Ties I’ll kind of always be...

After three beers (before the first band even played) it finally clicked: Brooklyn (nee Night) Bazaar’s new Greenpoint location is the perfect spot for a devastatingly disarming 70s party scene what with the inescapable blackness contrasting tallow halogen, drab rugs and mirrors fucking everywhere. NOFX blared from some rooms, artisinal...